Summary:
Gang members in central park turn out to be Cultists - and that 2 nights before halloween!

Social or Plot:

TS:
No

Log:The moon stood full over the cities roofs, bathing the central park in its silvery, unearthly light. The fallen leaves spoke of the upcoming winter and so did the temperature that had dropped to just below the freezing point for the first time this year. The trees began to look more like skeletons in these late autumn days. The leaves made crisping sounds as they broke apart under footsteps that were placed carefully on the dirt path. A breeze whistled through the trees, hissing and whining as it broke into turbulences that drove the fallen leaves in circles. Hitting the long coat of the person that was walking along the path, it tugged and pulled at the fabric, first pressing it against the leg and then pulling it to the back, a movement that the skirt followed, being pressed against the legs. On the short glimpse they seemed quite slender, and at the ankles a slim stripe of orange was to be seen. Stockings or long socks maybe. With the next steps the wind turned again, tossing the coat back in place and pressing it against the woman's back. The chilling wind whistled along the path, bringing with it the smell of hair gel, gunpowder and cold, greased metal from behind the woman. Not her own smell, but the one of the two gangers that had just left their hiding spots between the trees...

She had actually just been going to a friend's this night. Bundled up quite a lot, the spanish woman shivered in the cold air as she walked through the park from the barns, having had a late night therapy session with her horse. The woman puffs a few times, muttering and wondering why she had come to this city. Then she stops cold, staring straight ahead. Tigerstripe's position and the two gangsters were to her left, but something made her turn slowly, staring in that direction intently, a look of dismay and concentration on her face that hardened slowly. She stood, having gone still as a statue in the moonlight, easily visible as a tall, silhouette, seeking out the shadows that moved amongst the shadows.

The Tiger-woman did not stop, just following her path. A bit her feet hurried as she smelled the cold metal, the cleaned gun... The smell was not good, it rustled up rememberences she didn't wanted to think of. a bullet that had hit her arm. But as she hurried up, her followers did too. again she fastened her setps, and so did the gangers. Almost she ran now, still not throwing an eye back - she could hear their footsteps clearly as well as their breath, even as they were around 30 feet away.

Eyes narrowing, the woman standing on the pathway starts to run too. She ran paralell to the trio, puffing out hard - plumes of icy mist wafting away. AS she ran, she changed - she did not grow larger, or change actual shape, but it was as though impenetrable shadow enclothed around her. Her eyes darted from the woman running, to her own path ahead, an then back as she put all into it, feeling that familiar armor appearing out of nowhere, weighting down solidly on her. And then, from the brushes on her far side, a black shape melted out of the darkness, forming into a horse that matched her speed. With a leap she was half into the saddle, and a half-stride later she was fully into it as hard hooves clattered loudly on the paved trail. Hard to miss that.Taking up the reins, she pulled the horse off the trail and towards the other figures running, aiming to come between they and the woman, if all goes well.

The head of the woman turned to the shadowy knight that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, orbs of shimmering with a golden orange rim glistening up in the Moonlight. Her feet did good work however, as they kept the path true, even as the eyes did not kept on the way for some seconds. A moment later both her and her followers slowed down a bit, fear mixing into the smell of the gangers. Mounted Police at this time? or was it one of those Heroes that swarmed the city?

The black horse and rider stopped right between the two Gangsters and Tigerstripe now, the animal snorting as the rider hung on firmly to the reins. She considered saying something... That seemed appropriate. But what? Scowling uncomfortably, she finally cleared her throat "Leave now, both of you, and do not molest this woman!" she declared, voie tight, but clearly spanish and female.

The gangers stop and so does their prey, turning towards the rider. One of them begins to grin in a maniac way, babeling as he points on the rider with a curved knife ~Whacha wan' Chica? Big Ol' C' Will no folow noones orders!~ he yells at her while his compannion is more fear induced. He just stands still, the Ingram Mac-10 in his hands shivering and clickering.The Woman on the other hand backed away half a step, the muscles tense to go either to fight - or flight at any time. Basic survival instincts.

The horse snorts again, steam puffing out from his nostrils as he champs at the bit, stomping up a storm on the pathway there. Tanya's eyes widen a bit, then she makes them narrow, her lips thinning out a little bit. WIth a ringing sound, her own sword is drawn, to point at the knife-wielding one "THat was not an order. It was a ... Demand." she states, realizing halfway through that it made little sense. So she kicks the horse, and he leapt forwards, closing the gap with blinding speed as she swung the blade - not to kill, but to disarm 'Big Ol' C'.

Well, that went not too well - as far as the disarming goes. Because instead of facing the rider, the Knifewielder faces his compannion who begins to scream as he sees the maniac grin and some kind of fire in his eyes. But the scream does not hold on too long as the shimmering metal gets burried into the chest of him, sending the gunner to the ground jus ta the blade of the knight hits the others arm and cuts it off neatly. No scream leaves the maniac, instead he begins to laught and yell words that seem to make no sene at all ~yb hte anem fo hte ibg tcukhuh ocem ot em edomn fo edtsurtcoin!~This does not look good... but... she can't just leave that knight there. that seems... so not right... The form of the woman is frozen, however her Fingernails - no her claws - extend.

Shocked by the sudden killing of the mans' partner, Tanya pulls up on the reins hard as she disarms the man - literally! She stared at her blade and the blood darkening the edge on it. That wasnt her intension! Her eyes turn back to the man again, watching as he did that. Something snapped in her, and she made the horse charge again, this time aiming to simply run right INTO him and interrupt whatever spell he was intending to cast, letting out a half-scared shriek herself.This was... not according to plan!

The Disarmed one continiues to laugh as the hooves hit his chest, trampeling him down and into the cold path, His last sounds are laughtes, neverending maniac laughtes. As if even in death he had bested the Lady Knight. Echoing though the park his invocation and laughtes shiver in the cold air. The killed gunner however falls to the back of himself, the blade with the hand sticking out of the chest of him. The grip of the hand loosens slowly, falling onto the chest... and then it begins to move, painting sigils with the index finger and blood onto the T-Shirt. Each of those begins to glow faintly as the Body the hand belongs to crumbles to dust and nothingness.Creepy... The half feline woman gathers herself enough to jump forward into the direction of the woman knight. "Do you need help?!" she asks.

Staring, unnerved, Tanya, watches the one man slump, and the other one still laughing as it crumbles.. She looks up at the half feline woman, and pushes the hose on and towards her "No, I ... I am fine." she states, sounding shaken "But what WAS that? Will they come back? Do you need a lift out?" she asked, lowering the sword finally.

Throwing the hood of her pullover back some more she looks up to the armored woman, the looking back at the dust and the dead "shoudln't we call... uhm... police?" she asks, pointing at the dead man, just as the sigils begin to glow up in dark red, beginning to floating in the air. Sigils of the deep olds mixed with nonsense and hebrew. not a solid set of magic, but good enough to call a lesser one. The blade in the corpse begins to melt and deform, as does the body of the killed one. vines sprout where the blade had struck, engulfing the whole body in a cocoon of blood red.

The horse snorted again anxiously, and Tanya grit her teeth as she turned to look back "... I do not think the police are the ones to handle this." she admits, watching. Then she looks back once more, somewhat uncertain of what to do "But it is better than nothing. I can stand gard, if you call? I ahh, do not have a phone like this." She confesses

The woman nods, pulling her phone from the pocket of her coat. Meanwhile the demon cocoon bursts open with the stench of sulfur, forcing the feline away a bit as she tries to get the call to 911 established.Long, slender, no bony legs work their way out of the cocoon, soon followed by simmilar arms.

Tanya ughs herself as she kept the horse steady, watching now. she grimaced, blade still out as the other woan calls emergency. Her eyes flared a little bit, the inky blackness shimmering over her body as she held the reins tightly "... Only in New York I think is what they say..."

"hello? police? uhm... I am in central Park..." Monique Coppersmyth - that's her name - tries to get the announcement to police. The Demon slowly pulls itself into the moonlight. Just bloody skin and bones and sinews, covered in a glistening red substance... Blood... "uhm... I think we have... a demon here..."